A Different Twist...

The twist is in and of itself, par for the course.

I have been messing around on other social media platforms. Instagram in particular, has been a place where expressing oneself visually has proven to be a positive outlet for myself. It has been so successful, that my anonymity has all but disappeared.

Over a period of time, a few of the photos that I did manage to snap did attract the eye of some who possessed, either by nature or training  the quality that collectors desired. Regardless, those pics did catch some eyes. This has created a situation that brings me to this point.

A local gallery owner thought enough of my"work" to approach me about showing those pictures. I did discuss how the look in those photos was achieved. He did say that I should be honest in how that look was arrived...

I fucked around with the settings, until I was was happy with the results. In a nutshell, until the photograph resembled what my eye actually saw.

Soon, probably a little bit later this week, if not today, details of this "showing" will be revealed by the gallery owner. With that said, I shall let him do his work.

At the very least, my hope is that these pictures will help to color my world for the eyes of others.

AS OF LATE

Life really sucks...

Things have really gone downhill in many respects. Using is on the increase for me. The type of drugs I've been tinkering with have seriously gotten stronger as well.

Finances are sketchy and additional credit has not been helpful in any respect. Well it has allowed me to use more drugs.


Overdoses have been way too frequent. Friends have been avoiding me and I really can't blame them.
Who wants to get too close to someone who may be gone tomorrow.

Psychotic episodes have been increasing. Bizzare behavior has become a constant. Depression is on the upswing and isolating, while aided by my behavior, has been a practice of choice.

Winter is a season I dread and this one has been one of the worst. A fire only adds to the PTSD that is part and parcel of my life. I've been told that choices must be made.

The thing is though, I'm not sure I have that ability any longer. Asking for help is admitting defeat.

Besides, I'm not sure I really know how to ask for help.

A mixed bag of events

And these events have been both positive and negative. A few may have even been neutral in their end results.

One positive event was that the Credit Gods smiling on me for a little while. The simple fact is that I will shortly have a new, reconditioned laptop computer. Not only would it make my continued writing to this blog a bit more comfortable. 

Doing this shit on a phone, while not impossible, is a bit more challenging than I am willing to engage in...

On the negative side, I again have been schooled on how trusting people, especially people who have an addiction.

To be completely honest, the substance or behavior that is the root of their addiction matters little. The possible exception are the junkies. They love and hate being referred to in that way, as a badge of honor it has its merits. As a slur, issued by non-junkies, it is used as a bludgeon on those misguided souls.

I could elaborate on some of the other addicts not to be trusted. But to do so may possibly increase their urges. In particular those who are under the spell of some interestingly delicious  behavioral passions.

Oh!
When they sing about food in some of those old blues tunes, they weren't singing about food...

Speaking of food, I shop for groceries with the mission of having to feed one person.  So it may look like there is an abundance of supplies at check time, with a few folks thinking that their ill gotten acquiersitions would never be missed, it doesn't take long for the fridge to be bare.

Anther item that seems to be popular with my light fingered friends are phone chargers.

Then we have the fashion plates who steal eaach other's clothes. I could go on, but the fact is that this episode is being written on a phone.

That should change by the end of the week. Which is a positive, that is wrapping a negative that is surrounding a positive, etc., etc, etc...

Sounding like Ul Brenner in The King And I.

No, I don't want to die!

And I ain't dead yet...

With no plans of going that way and swearing that some lines in the sand would not be crossed, here we are. Twice now I have turned colors, stopped breathing and had CPR performed on me. Once I had to be loaded onto ambulance and taken to an ER to be monitored. Coercion of ones or another was included in the last procedure.

Coercion, in the choices given me were to ride in an ambulance or in the back of a cop car.

The circumstances leading to the last OD event were the result of me trying to be a good guy. A deal gone bad and my trying to maintain my reputation as a mostly good guy in a world of not so good guy. Added to that is being done dirty by a drug dealing thug who possessed no moral scrupples.

Excuse me for a second while remind myself if this fact in my world. "Good guys finish last."

So in an effort to get myself in the right light, as well as getting a bit for me. A second small business entrepreneur was contacted and orders were placed. Samples were given and and products were judged in regards to quality. A tester was passed to me of the heroin that was to be distributed.

Well, never ever believe that one cannot overdose when snorting that drug.

A small piece of paper, folded to hold a bit of the drug was handed to me. The amount seemed pretty insignificant. A small pile of greyish white powder poured out onto my desk.

Hmmm...


I rolled a PostIt note into a tube and stuck one end up my nose. My left nostril to be exact.  Sticking my finger over the right side of my nose, I inhaled sharply. The powdered drug shot into my nasel cavity.

I'm good, I thought...

About five minutes later things began to get exciting. Not so much for me, but for the people around me. Actually some if them ran out of the house. And some sort of thought I was worth saving. This came from a most unexpected person .

I mean, she did think that I set her up.

But she started giving me CPR.  I had physical proof. The bruise on my chest was a mildly painful reminder of my brush with that black caped crusader. This was supported by the testimony of a neighbor.

He really didn't want to be there either .

I could continue, but I won't. The ensuring adventure wasn't all that exciting, and the results are obvious. That is why I can repeat...

I ain't dead yet...

I really need a real computer

 Having been without a real computer for too long has had a negative effect.

Not feeling comfortable with trying to write this on a phone had kept me away during a particularly unstable period of my life. This has left me feeling vulnerable. While there have been long absences, I thought that not being here wouldn't be a problem for me, and not for my few readers.

That was the lie I fed myself. That neglect had a very negative influence on me and others. On others because of how my treatment of others was dangerously close to being selfish. I was using a new, to me street drug rthat made me feel superior to those around me.

It also permitted others to use me like some type of tool.

So,stumbling with fat fingers over a tiny keyboard, I struggle to make myself heard. Not just to you either...

But to myself.

Not writing these feelings and thoughts out loud has made me dead and blind to the danger swimming around me.

Double vision

All this is the work of a twisted mind and that is my thoughts on that.

Now, I didn't specify which mind was involved, but rest assured, the redo was a doozy. It was kind of mentioned that way as well. I can only wonder at the motivation, but crackheads are not the most likeable people in the world.

I guess the same could be made for all addicts. Should I, more correctly, those who engage in activities not that do create something out of the ordinary. One could say that serial killers where, well, addicts.

The past few weeks have been interesting in a off kilter kind of way. Things not adding up and other thing falling too perfectly into place. Yeah, as case could be made for my being labeled a little bit out there. I have been out there and this is different in a boring mundane sort of way.

Wait...
Some of that shit was in no way boring, and some could be labeled down right amusing.

Things went sideways.  Yeah, sideways works wonderfully to describe the events starting with that damned birthday party. I decided that since birthdays were in a limited quantity for me, thyat every one should be celebrated with...

Gusto.

The past birthday celebration was full of that and other things. Bullshit was in copious quantities. So was enthusiasm, lack of enthusiasm, excessive use of drugs and/or  alcohol by most everyone in the planning and set up phase. Cleaning was the prime objective to make my little hovel passable for people who didn't look too closely.

It should also be noted that most of that was piled onto the shoulders of two women that I simultaneously have crushes on. I think Simultaneously works in this case. There is one who seems to be avoiding any suggestion of such and another who could care less and acts unaware.

Unaware is a condition that most people have in my presence. That works out well when you're not being paid too much attention to, as you can observe without too much interference. It does not work out well when it is used as a minor irritant with someone whose knickers you are trying to get into.

But that's another story for another time.

Need less to say, we were to get together sometime around 2 PM the day of the party. I was given a sleep aid to combat the effects of the recreational substances I had ingested. Needless to say, I was asleep until 6PM the night of the party. It should also be noted that a plea for some adults did prove to be sensible in making sure this thing worked out as not planned.

It should be pointed out that I am making a list of possible party planners to use, and another list of party planners not to use. Oddly enough the names on each of these lists are almost identical.

As the evening progressed, my little experiment in social science showed all the possible flaws such a thing could possibly possess. Everything from a wannabe skinhead nazi to the most sexist feminists on the face of the earth managed to make a mark on the evening. One friend feigning anger cleared most of the nearly normal people out at a reasonable after the start of the evening.

This was also the guy who invited the skinhead. There us also certain amount of irony in that as well.

Some people left earlier than I had hoped, others stayed way too long. I think I hit the hay at around 6 AM. No one could have predicted the way it all turned out and that is exactly the kind of event that tickles me the most, Especially if it's someone else's affair.

The following day was a combination of depression, paranoia and other unspeakable imaginings.

With the efforts of two friends, and some adventures of sorts my place is in the best shape it's been in since I arrived from the City Mission. That makes for a happy ending that so may crave.

The thing is that this story ain't over yet...

Then again, it may be me.

Getting weird, I mean.

It is probably wrong to blame all of my thinking on the rewiring my brain is experiencing. It may be my occasional loneliness. It may be my smooth words with strangers that are encountered on the different social networks to which I belong.

But what bothers me is my lack of... I am not sure of what, but  freezing up when I do encounter a real living breathing person makes me feel weird and foolish. with everything considered of course, my age and condition do mot make for great relationship stuff. Physically I have limitations in certain areas.

We were having a conversation about when and where to do acid. One of the group thought we should be in tents, in the woods. I kind of thought, well I guess calling when they are peaking from the comfort of not the tent would have allowed me tp live a bit vicariously.

But the problem of getting me there was resolved.
\
I will have to admit that sex might not be as intense or a pleasurable with me. On the other hand, I of the school all sex is good sex, might get the fuck of his life. Well, that is a high bar, but to have a session of emotionally involved love making is something that has been lacking for me for a very long time. I do crave something beyond good technique and mechanics. The GFE from a top shelf hooker can't equal that experience.

Of course that is the stuff of ackward breakups in some cases.

And this is why I am talking about this on the is blog. I f any of you have read the entire blog, you are aware of the fact that being alone for the most part has been my life. There have been no major complaints on my part for the most part. I don't get tangled up in this sort of thing too often. And it may have happened at some point awhile ago, that has not been as stressful to me as the brief encounters I have experienced in recent history.

The have been other instances where I have had contact with the opposite sex. But those have been ..tranactional. Hey, I'm old and ugly, but I am fun to be with. I just wish I were more than just fun. But when you get right down to it, there couldn't possibly be a better way to check out.

Hey, I've been doing this in one form or another for ..shit over 30 years and I am still alive. A point I proudly make whenever some sweet young thing looks at me with a certain amount of revulsion. The is this and really not much more.

I ain't dead yet.